The line began to move as if they were being pushed off their backs.
　Akatsuki, who had been thinking, was pushed into motion by a wave of people who seemed to rush him. Whatever she was thinking about has dissipated. The short woman walks gloomily through the huge intersection.
　Tall black figures undulate on either side of Akatsuki, in front and behind her. She hears a car horn at close range. A commercial vehicle with its nose in the intersection must be writhing in frustration, unable to move. A metallic, high-pitched sound echoed through the air, but no one paid any attention to it.
　Akatsuki wondered if he was the only one who felt reprimanded every time he heard that noise. It would be nice if someone could do something about it soon, but it has never been resolved in his experience. The wall of people flowing around you is intimidating. Salaried workers, office workers, students. People of all ages and occupations walk mechanically through the streets.
　There are people who talk loudly. They are holding a mobile phone to their mouths as if they are conducting a business meeting. Akatsuki shrugged, afraid of the voices shouting at his subordinates. The voice of an affable date. Akatsuki knows that the woman who speaks into her cell phone to spoil him isn't smiling at all.
　Yes, he just knows. She can't see the expressions on the faces of the people around her. In a crowd like this, it's almost impossible to see the faces of others from Akatsuki. There's so little space that you can't even look up to see them adequately.
　I just keep walking, pushed to scramble and hurriedly, and I don't know why, but I keep walking in a frightened, irritated, gloomy mood.
　The city was full of sounds. The distant sound of emergency vehicle sirens. Car horns. The sound of the exhaust like a grumpy beast. The collective sound of everyone talking into their cell phones without permission, undulating like the ocean in the background, mixed with neon lights and music from every tempo, smeared all over the place like tasteless pizza sauce.
　The Akatsuki, walking with his head down, can't understand the music or the conversation. The mixture only presses on his ears, and sometimes he can almost catch a phrase or piece of conversation that emerges, but he is swept away by the overwhelming amount of information.
　Yes, it was a flood, in the violent sense of the word. Akatsuki wasn't drowning, but it simply knew how to keep its mouth and ears and eyes shut. It was not much different from a drowning person in that it was being swallowed and swept away by the murky waters.
　The wave of people swallowed Akatsuki and went around under the guard and up the slope of the valley between the buildings. Where are these crowds going to?　A forest of glass and concrete layers of glass and concrete groaned on the surface of the earth, trying to cower the heavens, and they would go in and come out again. Almost everything in this city looked high-pressure, as if a deformed giant was chewing and ejecting at the same time. Akatsuki and the others moved to be swallowed by one building, and after being spat out of one building, they wandered the compressed city to be swallowed by another.
　The planted evergreens, caked with reddish-brown soot, were a dingy existence. A temporary plant that existed only to be used as an alibi, as if to say, "This is a nature-conscious building that cares about greenery. They were nothing more than a lucky break. They are not trampled, but they are under the pressure of the wave of people Akatsuki is now washing away, 876 hours a year, and they are groaning, unable to even mend their ways.
　Akatsuki only glances at it and paces. It is the style and duty of all the citizens of this city to never fall behind the speed of the black crowd around them. If you break that pace, a very bad situation will occur.
　In Akatsuki's vision, the asphalt was flowing. He walks with his head down, but his vision is dominated by the asphalt being hit by various shoes. Broken chopsticks from a convenience store, a mysterious flyer, a plastic bag, a silvery paper sticking to the ground, and a key ring that has been absorbed by the muddy water and is no longer there for anyone to pick up, appear on the street, dirty and exhausted after the last night's rain. Of course, these are the first things we see now, and without recognizing them, they are overrun by the crowd, and for Akatsuki, who keeps walking, they drift into the past. At the same time, however, they are the only ones that appear on the street again and again.
　A plastic bag may have been wrapped with goods sold in a store somewhere, but as trash that appears on the street, it has long since lost its uniqueness. In every sense of the word, there is no longer any difference between the plastic bag that has been trampled and torn to pieces by the crowd now and the one that will appear even five minutes later. And that's for everyone. Maybe even Akatsuki.
　The flow of time is very restless and slow as a snail. The blaring sound of the music, which is inserted at random like a sudden downpour, cuts up Akatsuki's time regardless of his feelings. They become a pacemaker and control Akatsuki's life. However, he's not so busy that he can't think about anything. There isn't enough space to study or play in the fragmented time that has been cut up one way or another, so he does what he can in a short time.
　For those around them, it seems, that means talking loudly into a cell phone or continuing to pay lethargic bills on their smartphones. For Akatsuki, who had no interest in such activities, the time chopped up was a depressing self-awareness. He would have to grit his teeth and endure that inaction. The anger-like emotions had already cooled to a point where self-loathing had set in. This life of being broken down into the smallest unit is no longer human, isn't it? Like livestock, Akatsuki thinks. The proof of this is that I have no way to escape from this place.
　The line has stopped all together. A signal. It blinks a few times and turns red, simultaneously allowing passage on the side of the right angle crossing. A flock of cars, chased by hunters, passes in front of Akatsuki, making a deafening noise. Akatsuki knows that in the heart of the city, the next traffic light is less than fifty meters away. Even if it was green, the next one or the next, these cars would stop again. I can't understand the intention of these cars that accelerate and spread gas as if they can't stand such a mere distance. Is there some secret that Akatsuki, who cannot drive, cannot understand?
　I'm not going to be able to get out of it. He rubbed his nose, as if it had become more frequent since he started commuting to this city. After rubbing, a slight regret was left behind. She is always trying to stop this unfeminine gesture, but it doesn't seem to be changing. The pungent and sour car exhaust always makes Akatsuki's nose sneeze.
　Akatsuki started walking quickly and proceeded to ride at the head of the wave of people. Although he started walking, it was more like a trot for Akatsuki, whose stride is very narrow.
　The question arose as to where he was going. Since I'm pushing myself to go through such pain, I must have a destination. Moreover, he must be on his way there on some schedule, whether it was a rendezvous or on time. That's right - they had to be heading to A school. I think it was a learning facility. Probably a university. But somehow that had disappeared from Akatsuki's mind.
　Disappointment hits me before I'm even confused. I'm almost crushed by a sense of anxiety that I have nowhere to go in this conveyor belt line of a city. Laughter. The electronic sound of a parade that seems to stir up a sense of euphoria. The screech of car brakes. And the echoing sound of the mountain railway line passing by. A choking pain and blurred vision. The urge to stop overflowed, but Akatsuki struggled to walk so as not to bother others. Crossing a flashing traffic light, passing a convenience store, turning the corner of a bank, and going on and on through the familiar crowds. Somewhere that wasn't here. Maybe, like that plastic bag, not everyone here has a destination. Not even the Akatsuki, who can be replaced. But to Akatsuki, he needed proof that he was the only Akatsuki, the only Akatsuki. Even if it could not be found anywhere.
　The Akatsuki found himself skipping two steps up the concrete stairs. The cold fire escape reminded me of the deserted landscape of some apartment complex. It was a very familiar and familiar sight, but it lacked concreteness, and Akatsuki wasn't sure where it was. The important thing was that Akatsuki was running up the stairs, and it was not the least bit exciting, it was in the process of escaping.
　It wasn't specific what he was running from, but that's because Akatsuki knows that the moment he imagines something concrete, he will be caught up with it. A plastic bag, if you will. The plastic bag, wet and snagged, was making a rasping sound as it stuck to Akatsuki's back, or rather to the soles of her feet as she kicked the stairs. If he listened carefully, he couldn't hear such a sound. It was wrong that it was sticking. But for some reason, Akatsuki hurried onward, unable to do the only thing he could do, which was to look at his feet. An uncomfortable sense of urgency ran like a cold needle up his spine.
　I'm out of breath, unable to breathe as if there's not enough oxygen. I know I'm wrong, but I can't prove it wrong because I don't know the right answer. I climb up the concrete stairs, jump out onto the landing, lean back and turn around as if to overcome the inertia, and then climb more stairs. The repetition of this cycle was as ludicrous as a rat running through a spinning wheel. Driven by the sound of concrete digging, Akatsuki was running away from the stairs. It was as if the concrete stairs themselves were disgusting. But he has to run down those stairs to escape. How far does the chain of events end?
　When Akatsuki reached the dozens or even hundreds of steps, he realized at last that it was not a landing. His feet were buried in the creamy concrete, he missed, and Akatsuki fell with the exhaust gas-covered hustle and bustle in tow. Amidst the endless falling screams and fierce winds, Akatsuki thought he had indeed seen that plastic bag again.


　◆


　It was a white beach.
　The sky was clear and continuous.
　The cerulean impregnability, as if lightly loaded with watercolors, was filled with ripples.

　Akatsuki walked along the beach alone.
　He was alone in the vast, empty space characteristic of the winter shore.
　Akatsuki was awed by the crumbling, fragile sand.

　When he turned his head, his own little toes took another step.
　Another footstep in the unblemished purity of white.
　In the distance, he saw a small shadow flying in the distance. Is it a seabird?

　Ripple, ripple.
　All I could hear were those tiny footsteps and the cerulean tides washing the beach.
　Hugging his coat tightly to the chilly air, Akatsuki strolled along.
　Slowly, without being rushed.

　When he looked up, the surface of the water glistened and reflected wildly.
　The winter light had no heat, just a glare.
　Small footsteps and tiny footprints followed the beach like a thin chain.

　Akatsuki didn't know where he was, but he didn't feel the same sense of urgency he had felt earlier.
　This wasn't a destination, but it was a safe place to be, he thought.
　Strolling along the quiet beach was a calming and enjoyable experience.

　I wondered how long I had walked.
　I walked up to the water's edge and let the cerulean touch the soles of my shoes, and I spun around in a circle.
　I let him tangle his feet like a bee's dance.
　Since he was alone, Akatsuki tried to do such things with a serious face.
　It was a little funny and small smile.
　The footprints of Akatsuki's faithfulness have adored him to no end.
　Even that was as fun as a diary written.

　I had to squint to see into the distance, but then I saw a shadow of a person in my vision.
　It was a tall shadow of a man who looked at the sea with a slightly troubled bent body.
　Akatsuki was surprised at how light the body was, and then realized that he had started running.
　He slowed his speed, rushing with surprisingly few steps over what seemed like a long distance.
　I am not the kind of person who hugs my body and holds it close.
　But he still looked up at the figures, lured by the adoring feeling.

　Shiroe noticed Akatsuki and smiled at him.
　Akatsuki always felt very satisfied when he saw Shiroe, who usually had such a difficult and stubborn expression, smile like that.
　Embarrassed, glaring and embarrassed.
　Squinting and smiling, Shiroe was a little lost, then turned to Akatsuki, asking him with her eyes, and started walking down the beach.
　Akatsuki began to walk with her, following the hem of her coat.
　Shiroe seemed to be consciously walking slowly.
　Shiroe didn't speak, and neither did Akatsuki, who was walking next to him.
　There was a certain elegance to the beach, where the only sounds were the slow movement of the air and the quiet clamor of the tide.
　Both of them hesitated to break the silence.

(My lord's hands are so big.)
　I think to myself as I duck my head a couple of times and gesture to fix my glasses.
　I watch his hands slip into the pockets of his white coat and quicken my pace.
　Or is it better to be slow?
　Maybe a little delay would be an excuse to grab the hem of that coat.
　Akatsuki's mouth dropped into a crooked shape as he thought about this.
　He didn't make the slightest bit of a grumpy face.
　Shiroe looked back at Akatsuki and waited a few moments, then they began to rustle and rustle again on the sugar-work sandy beach. You can feel the brittle sand changing under your feet. A cool breeze ruffled their cheeks, but they didn't notice it any longer. There was a definite warmth in the center of his body.
　Everything was unusual and fun for Akatsuki. Shiroe's big shoes chewed the sand roughly. The footprints, which were deeper than he was, were also fun. The hem of Shiroe's coat fluttering in the occasional strong breeze was adorable.
　I wanted to reach into Shiroe's pockets, which were five times larger than Akatsuki's, but I couldn't do that. Instead, he turned around and was satisfied to see Shiroe and his footprints on the beach.

　I felt something cool on the Akatsuki's little nose and rolled my eyes.
　The white snow fluttered soundlessly about.
　The white snow fluttered noiselessly in the air, and when I touched it with my fingertips, it faded away.
　It was snowing.
　Akatsuki looked up to tell Shiroe that, and when she nodded with a gentle smile, she knew she no longer had to report it. He put on the hood of his duffel that Shiroe had pulled up for him and walked further.
　I didn't feel tired, but I think I'd walked a lot.
　The turquoise sky became clearer and clearer, turning a deep indigo color, and the heavens glowed like a jewel.
　The shimmering surface of the water was transparent and shimmering white, catching the snow.
'I didn't know it would be so quiet,'
　Muttering, Shiroe stopped in his tracks.
　Before he knew it, they had reached a small cove.
'Yes,'
　Akatsuki returned his frustration.
　He really wanted to give a more witty or feminine answer, but he couldn't think of one. Shiroe still didn't show any signs of being in a bad mood, but stared out at the sea where it should have been night.
　Koun.
　Koon.
　He thought he heard a sound as if he had gently played a large crystal.
　It was like a distant signal echoing from that end of the giant ocean.
　Suddenly, a new awareness arose in Akatsuki's mind, but it fizzled out in a moment of confirmation.
　Something transparent blew through Akatsuki, something that wasn't Akatsuki, something that wasn't Akatsuki.
　It was something that wasn't himself, and yet Akatsuki's feelings were filled with grief at the loss.
　A large hand touched his shoulder gently, encouragingly, and Akatsuki knew that Shiroe had felt the same thing. His expression wasn't stern, but it was stern.
　Shiroe stretched out the blade of a utility knife she had taken from somewhere and clumsily cut a section of her bangs. The black hair, which had a strange sand-colored sheen to it, was a lot less than a tuft.
　Akatsuki took the cutter from Shiroe and cut off the tip of his ponytail as well. He had no idea why he was doing it, but he knew it was a necessary action.

　The two of them tossed the hair into the ocean, where it was wet underneath the Cerulean's feet.
　Somewhere in there was an approving crystal, and the fluttering, chill-free snow danced.

　So, Akatsuki finally understood that these pale shards were everyone's memories.
　Death doesn't take away people's memories, he said, and we have the opportunity to offer them here to rise again. Even if we can't remember them, Akatsuki realized, we will stand up again because we want to.
'That's great,'
　Shiroe's words were just Akatsuki's impressions.
　How much thought did the snow fluttering down?
　How many people had renewed their resolve on this beach?
　The sheer number and weight of them made Akatsuki dizzy.
　And he was inexplicably convinced that it was not a legitimate right that had been promised, but an incredibly precious, precious piece of luck.
　And that Shiroe was next to him.
'Did Akatsuki fall down?'
　Akatsuki, who had been thinking for a while at Shiroe's words, finally nodded.
　That's right.
　I am dead.
　On a killer's blade.
　That's fine.
　Not because he could resurrect himself in the Great Temple, but it was still good. Akatsuki fought and fell because he wanted to. No regrets there.
　But the realization that he himself had died awakened Akatsuki's memories. It was the memory of flying out of Reinesia's mansion, the giant something Soujiro had shown him, the earnest profile of his protector, Liese's, Henrietta's, and the other girls at that tea party, something flamboyant but serious... ...
　--that was it.
　What is something?
　Akatsuki knew he could only call it something.
　After that battle, he hadn't moved on even a little.
　He was so frustrated by the fact that he didn't know, and he was so sorry, that all he could do was cry.
　I was touched by something important. I finally realized what it was. But I have no idea what it is or what to do about it. I knew how valuable and important it was, but I couldn't make use of it. That was a gift, though.
　I wanted to explain to Shiroe that there was something very beautiful about me.
　I wanted to tell her that I had found something beautiful, something wonderful.
　Something important was there. I can't be sure, but I think it was something that was offered to me.
　But I don't know what I found, so I can't put it into words.
　The regret that tightens up, Akatsuki cried miserably and raggedly.
　Akatsuki couldn't bear the feeling that the fact that he couldn't tell her hurt something important. He was afraid that he would diminish the value of that gift as well as his own cowardice.
　There was definitely something there.
　In the hustle and bustle of the city.
　In Soujiro's fearless smile.
　It wasn't a failure to be dead. Akatsuki's failure is that she didn't get the thing that her fingertips touched.
　No matter. Akatsuki even thought that maybe that thing had been right in front of him all along. If so, his failure to find it meant that he had made countless mistakes. Without being told by anyone, Akatsuki was convinced that this was the truth.
　He cried again at his inadequacy. Because of this, he was going to die without being able to do anything.

I see. I'm a bit of a jerk. I'm dead too.
　When Akatsuki looked up at the hand placed on his head, Shiroe smiled, a troubled, kind smile on his face. She was concerned, Akatsuki could tell. The smile, as modest as it was self-mocking, was the face Akatsuki's guildmaster made when he spoke to her.
'You too, my lord?'
Yes.
　Then there was silence.
　Shiroe moved the hand on Akatsuki's head as if annoyed, but Akatsuki thought it was probably because she was trying to say something but couldn't think of anything to say. Shiroe is such a clumsy person. Akatsuki is trying to be considerate even though he doesn't mind in the least.
I failed. I didn't see it coming. --I couldn't believe it.
　It was more of a self-correcting line than a weak one.
'I don't understand,'
　That's why Akatsuki also responded in a way that didn't make him feel weak.
'It's strange. I didn't expect to see you here, Akatsuki.
　The rest of the low answer came after countless snowflakes fell.
　Akatsuki was startled as he thought about the meaning of Shiroe's words.
　It is indeed very strange. I haven't seen Shiroe in a long time.
　Come to think of it, I've been wanting to see Shiroe.
　I wanted to see her so badly.
　I wanted to have Shiroe stroke my head.
　I also remembered how much I wanted to be praised.
　That's why this encounter was so strange.
　I never thought I would be able to meet in such a place.
　Until just now, I hadn't even thought about that.
　It's a wonder that I was able to meet Shiroe.
　I'm not sure if this is the right place to be, but Akatsuki feels that this is not an ordinary place. He was grateful for that miraculous coincidence.
'Yes. 'My lord. It's a wonder.'
　It reminded me of the blank sandy beach and cerulean sea I'd walked on.
　In the midst of the glorious, bleached-out scene, I saw Shiroe turn around to see us.
　I ran over and looked up to see a large hand caressing my forehead.
　It was just a coincidence.
　But that coincidence blessed Akatsuki.
　There was nothing else to wish for.
　The things Akatsuki hadn't been able to reach are probably still lying in the same place where they were touched.
　What Akatsuki could not reach must still be lying in the same place where he touched it, in fact, there must be countless of them. In the shadows where Akatsuki could not find them. In the smiles that we have overlooked because we didn't even try to look for them.
　I arrogantly took for granted the good fortune I had obtained. I had assumed that the good fortune I hadn't gotten didn't exist. Even though the luck, the meeting, the help, was probably all over the world waiting to be found by Akatsuki.
So I'm going to try again.
Me too, maybe once more. -- they taught me.
　Akatsuki gripped Shiroe's coat tightly.
　Similar to the feel of the sand crumbling brittle under his feet, he had a feeling that this memory wouldn't stay with him.
　That's why I squeezed it tighter and tighter, even though I knew it might leave wrinkles in the coat.
　I wanted to hold on to that coat, even if I couldn't say it, because I would probably be separated from Shiroe again. But that wish proved to be futile, as the endless dunes, like powdery snow, grew brighter and brighter.
　The sound of the tide was pale with the sound of the tufts of hair Akatsuki had dedicated to the cause.
　Akatsuki fell into the sky, where the sky became more and more mingled with blue.


　◆


　It's okay.
　Akatsuki let his cheeks relax at the feeling of his palm and slowly emerged from consciousness.
　It's okay.
　You can still feel a bit of cloth in your palm.
　I'm fine.
　But when he opened his eyes, Akatsuki saw his little hand clenching something in front of him.
　Akatsuki could feel the memories unraveling quickly. As he lay on the hard bed, the memory of the dream that had been there until just now faded away with the thin tears running down his cheeks.
　Shaking off the guilt and loneliness that she had left behind in her shallow sleep, Akatsuki turned her clenched palms into fists and wiped the tears away.
　Akatsuki got up and sat down on a simple marble-built bunk.
　For some reason, he felt like he was walking through a very strange place.
　It was a quiet, lonely, gentle, transparent place.
　It was there that Akatsuki traveled, met, noticed, and got up.
　I feel like we had something important to talk about. If I could, I would have brought it home with me.
　He can still feel it in his palm. Probably. The fabric I was clutching. It was fading fast with a slight warmth. Akatsuki tried to curb the evaporation of memories that came with the dream, but he knew it was a futile effort.
　The sound of crystal bells faded into the distance.
　But he was able to bring back one thing that was important to him.
　Perhaps only the most important thing could be brought back from there.

　Exploring the body, Akatsuki made sure that all the equipment was not lost.
　He got down from his bunk and moved carefully.
　This was the first time since the Great Disaster that he had died.
　From the common knowledge of the Elder Tail, and from the rumors of others since the Catastrophe, Akatsuki knew that the Resurrection would involve some experience point loss and a loss of memory. The loss of memory hadn't occurred to him at the moment.
　He remembers the Horizon of Records, Shiroe and everyone else. Even the memories of my former world, my family, school, memories from my childhood, and the sketchy parts of my life, seemed not to have been lost. If I look into it in detail, I may have forgotten some of them, but that will take some time.
　The loss of experience points is also not so uncomfortable for the body. It is said that the loss of experience points, which does not need to be reduced in level, is said to leave the body with a sense of fatigue after the "catastrophe". However, it is difficult to determine whether this is due to the loss of experience points or whether the body is stiff from sleeping on the marble bed. In other words, in other words, it's only that much.
　When I looked around again, I found myself in the "Great Temple".
　The white marble room was decorated with a number of bunks and walls decorated with modest carvings.
　This was the Akiba's "Grand Shrine" in the city of Akiba. It's not much, but even in my gaming days I've been revived in this scene. Akatsuki began to walk while repositioning the small sword.
　There was a lot of work to be done.
　Glancing up at the sky from the cloister, the winter sun was rising over the cloudy sky.
　From the angle, it looked like it was past noon. It must have been midnight when they started fighting, but did it take them half a day to revive him? No, I don't think so. Perhaps as soon as he was revived, the tension was broken and he fell asleep. If that's the case, it's understandable that your muscles are aching.
　Akatsuki is advancing through the zone of the "Great Temple", which is bigger than it looks.
　There is something to do.
　There are things that must be done.
　He can't give up once he has lost. Akatsuki now realizes how lazy he was. He thought he was fighting with his whole body. He had tried to convince himself that he was more desperate than anyone else. That's a deception. It's just an excuse. There was so much I could do. Akatsuki kept from doing what he really had to do. He was desperately trying to do only what he liked, and trying to believe it was an effort. He had been spoiled.
　Akatsuki proceeded decisively through the stained glass lit chapel.
　From Akatsuki's point of view, he should be in Akiba in no time at all, down the wide stairs.
　But what awaited him there was a sight Akatsuki had never expected.

'Are you OK?　Do you have any injuries left?
　Akatsuki, who was easily hugged because she was careless, has blackened her eyes. It's a good idea to be able to have a good idea of what you're looking for. It's a good idea to be able to have a good time with them.
''I thought you'd be up by now,''
　Liese, leaning against the railing of the stone ramp, called out to me, and behind her, I saw a mopey, shaggy-dressed Rainesia with her head bowed apologetically. The fox-eared woman behind her, arms crossed and smiling wryly, was the West Wind Divinity Officer I had seen in the midnight battle.
''........''
　Akatsuki's mouth tightened.
　He could see his own face getting darker and grimmer by the minute.
　It's not that I don't like everyone.
　It's just that everything is rust from the body. It's just that I haven't made any close friends of the same age or gender, and I don't really know how to talk to them.
　But I know what I have to do. That's the only thing Akatsuki has brought back from his mourned dreams. So he squeezed Henrietta's hand tightly as he lifted himself up onto his stomach. He looked at Henrietta, whose mouth was closed in surprise, at Liese, at the fox-eared woman, and at Rainesia, who looked more troubled than anyone else.
　Lowered to the ground, Akatsuki simply bowed his head.
'I know this is an impolite request, but I want to hang on to you all. "'Will you teach me the 'oral tradition'? I want to take that murderer down.
　I can see the fox-eared woman looking startled, and Henrietta gasping in the background. Reinesia has a somber look on her face.
"If it was an 'oral tradition', you could have used it, right, Soujiro-sama?　Mr. Nazna.
Yeah. Yeah.
But it wasn't good enough.
It will.
　To Liese's question, the fox-eared woman, a beautiful, mature-looking woman called Nazna, replies, "Why do you still want the 'oral tradition'?
"And yet, you ask for oral tradition?"
　Riese turned the conversation directly to Akatsuki.
　Akatsuki bit her lip.
　He couldn't explain it well. Probably, he would have come off as selfish and selfish for wanting an oral tradition. Regret filled his chest, but Akatsuki couldn't imagine any other way to say it.
'Mr. Akatsuki,'
　But then I saw Lise and her gaze.
　She was probably almost the same age as him, and she was staring at Akatsuki with a cool expression on her face.
　A girl standing firmly as part of a huge guild that Akatsuki couldn't even imagine. The woman called Nazuna, Reinesia, and even Henrietta were all in their places, connected to the others more than they could handle their own roles.
　Akatsuki remembered his resolve. If he pulled back here, it would be exactly the same as before. You're going to have to do your best, you're going to have to do your best, you're going to fail, but you're going to have to comfort yourself by saying that you tried your best. Nevertheless, Akatsuki knew that there were some battles in life that he really wanted to win, some battles that he did not want to lose. There was a wall that he wanted to cross, even if he had to beg and plead miserably with anyone.
I want to end that killer.
　Akatsuki pleaded desperately. But sadly, his mouth doesn't travel well.
'It's not just "oral tradition". It's not just "oral". Would you let me stay with you?
Do you think you can win?
　It was Nazuna who asked a blunt question. The healer, Ruby: Healer, who had supported that Soujiro in the West Wind Brigade to the end. The long black hair and the dressed-down, kimono-wearing Shinsengumi Officer. Akatsuki answers that question almost ineptly.
''I don't know. But even if we win and even if we defeat them, it won't end. You can't end it without doing something to end it, I think. We have to try to end it.
　Akatsuki continued to struggle to shake off the frustration of not being able to communicate.
　He resented his own clumsiness.
And maybe you'll be able to do that, my lord. ...and that's why I have to do it.
　A questioning look stung Akatsuki.
　It was at the words that Shiroe could do it.
　Even though he had already made up his mind, Akatsuki's words were sluggish and heavy.
".........the lord is not here. To this Akiba.
　That's the secret Akatsuki and the Horizon of Records have been guarding.
　Shiroe is no longer with us. Now that D.D.D. was away, it was a lie to say that he was buried in the enormous task of protecting the Roundtable. Shiroe probably went to do what he could. What that was, I don't know. I don't know, but Akatsuki was asked to stay.
　That's why he has to protect this city from the disaster that Shiroe was supposed to protect it from.
　I promised her that I would.
Can you do that, Nazuna?　I'm asking, sir.
　Liese's words freak Akatsuki out and frighten him.
　I can't make that promise.
　I can't make a guarantee.
　I don't want you to ask for such a thing.
''I can't do it alone. So I need your help. Help me, please.
　It was an excruciating pain for Akatsuki. It was painful to admit that he was a child and that he was helpless, and it was as painful as cutting himself. A feeling similar to a curse sprouted in his small body, wondering if his little body could only hold that much power.
　But in front of Akatsuki's eyes, Shiroe said the same wish.

　When Akatsuki was surprised by the warmth of Henrietta's arms, which were squeezed tightly together, Nazuna smiled a ruddy smile that said she had lost her poisonous spirit.
'I thought it was going to be about that. Since the moment you said you were backing out. Shiroe's place is full of stubbornness. The same kind of people call friends.
I'd say you're only half way there. By D.D.D. standards, I'd say they need to be rehearsed. There are currently eight oral traditions in the D.D.D. that are in the process of being verified, and we have Milord's permission. He asked me to pass them on to you, Akatsuki.
　The golden-haired girl tells her calmly.
'I have something to do as well.
　Reinesia, who remained silent as she pressed on, nodded with a pale face.
''........Really, to come to such a place 《Rubi: Seldesia》 and start middle school all over again.
　With a small sigh from Riese, a small and modest strike force was organized.
　For Akatsuki, however, it was a very big step.